


like tombstones

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Every story has an ending, and this, Severus thinks, is theirs.





	like tombstones

Severus knows something is wrong before Regulus has even made it through the door. He can see it in the way he walks, stiff and stunted, in the way his body carries tension. His back is too straight, his hands curled into fists at his side, and, when he gets a better look, Severus can see that his jaw is clenched.

But Regulus has never been one to talk, so Severus doesn’t ask. Instead, he pours a second shot of whiskey and slides it across the kitchen counter. Regulus takes it with a small smile, some of the tension easing as he downs it in one gulp.

It’s one of the better things about their relationship, Severus thinks, the way they don’t always have to talk. The way they seem to understand each other without words. Regulus relaxes against the kitchen counter, and Severus knows that whatever had happened is to be left at the door.

It suits him just fine. He’s never been one to talk much, either.

But then Regulus is moving, his hand curling around Severus’ thin wrist, pulling him through the hallway, and this—this is unexpected. Not because they’ve never done it before, but because it’s never been like this.

“Wha...” Severus starts to asks, but his voice trails off as Regulus shakes his head.

“Let’s take a bath,” he says, mouth quirked in a small smirk, and—well. Severus couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

Regulus strips him carefully, their clothes landing in an unorganised heap on the floor, and this—this is also unexpected. It’s new, Severus thinks. They usually aren’t so slow, usually aren’t so careful. In the two years they’ve been messing around – _not dating_ , despite what Lucius says – it’s never been anything much like romantic, and that’s the only word that comes to mind as he sinks into warm water, Regulus’ body close behind his.

It’s nice, though, and that’s another odd thought, Severus thinks. He hadn’t expected to like slow, to enjoy romantic, but when Regulus’ hands start to explore his body, lazy and sensual and almost sweet, he can’t honestly say he hates it.

The exploration doesn’t go anywhere just yet. Regulus seems content just to touch him, to tease him, and Severus lets him. He watches, gaze calculating. He’s trying to figure out why Regulus is acting differently, trying to figure out if there’s a reason for it at all.   

By the time they exit the bath, Severus still has no answer. What he does have is a half-hard prick and the desire to _keep going_. Luckily for him, Regulus seems to share the sentiment.

The mattress he’s lowered onto is soft, the room around them illuminated by the glow of the setting sun. Regulus kisses him, touches him, prepares him in the way he _knows_ Severus adores, in the way that leaves him a sweaty, panting mess. That leaves him desperate.

It’s not until Regulus is buried inside of him that Severus gets it. He sees it somehow, through the cloud of arousal. Sees it in the newfound gentleness of Regulus’ touch, in the unintelligible words that are whispered against his skin.   

There’s a finality in the way Regulus moves, in the way he touches him. Something definite. Something conclusive. Something like a goodbye.

Severus had known it would come – endings always do – but he can’t fathom why Regulus would do it like this, why he’d be so careful about it. So loving.

The knowledge that this is quite possibly their last time together does nothing to dampen the mood, though, and eventually any thoughts that aren’t to do with his arousal are sent to the back of his mind. All Severus knows is the sensation of another body on his, is the delicious pressure of Regulus fucking him open, is the white-hot pleasure of an orgasm ripping through him.   

Later, when the sun outside has set, when it’s only them and the soft glow of the streetlight outside, when he’s laid across the bed, hair splayed out on the pillow, his mind sitting somewhere between consciousness and the sweet oblivion of sleep, Severus hears Regulus move.

He does it subtly, slowly, the heat of his body inching closer in the dark. The sheet slides across Severus’ bare skin as he does; lower, so his naked torso is on display. He feels Regulus’ breath against his cheek, his neck, the air warm in the cold room. Feels the press of Regulus’ lips against his jaw, gentle, again, like he had been earlier. Gentle like Severus isn’t used to.

“Stay alive,” Regulus whispers, his bottom lip catching against Severus’ skin.

In the state he’s in, Severus barely hears it. It’s low, little more than a breath, and he’s so tired. So, so exhausted. He leans into the touch, just barely, and can _feel_ Regulus smile. Fleeting and familiar and probably just as bright as the stars.

When he gives in and finally falls asleep, the pressure of Regulus’ body is still there.

When he wakes, it’s not.

When, two days later, Regulus is declared dead and deemed a traitor, Severus thinks he can understand why.


End file.
